The Odd Couple
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: Moody’s arrival poses a threat to the careful balance of secrets at Hogwarts, not the least of which is Snape and Sinistra’s play at marriage. As they struggle to keep up their make-believe, the past unravels and lines of pretending become blurred. (C
1. To Die, To Sleep

The Odd Couple  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill.  
  
Author's Note: Thanks and blame to Milla for inspiring the Snape/Sinistra craze among our little group. Thanks to Nita for her Snape/Sinistra proof post that more fully inspired this story. Thanks to JKR herself for creating the sexy Slytherin known as Snape.  
  
To save Ciera Sinistra from the fate of Azkaban, Severus Snape marries her out of necessity. Though passion never existed between them, when an ex-Auror comes to teach at Hogwarts, they must pretend to be in love or lose all they have worked for. But like all make-believe, the lines between pretend and reality can become blurred. Takes place during GoF.  
  
***  
  
Chapter One: To Die, To Sleep  
  
They Apparated into the clearing, a band of black-robed, masked figures, right in the midst of the company of Aurors, and immediately began shooting curses from a variance of wands, screaming hexes and aiming to kill. The Ministry witches and wizards were taken by complete surprise, and therefore nearly five of their number fell before they gave the first return curse.  
  
But when they finally retaliated, they moved with precision that nearly matched that of the well-trained Death Eaters. A Cruciatus flew by her head, so close that the energy singed the strands of hair that escaped her hood. She whirled to find a young Auror aiming at her. Before he could speak, she raised her wand, "IMPERIO!"  
  
He froze, his mouth open to form the curse, then slowly his arm lowered back down to his side. She smiled crookedly behind the mask and whispered, "Kill them."  
  
From where she stood, she could see the shock that leapt to his eyes briefly before dying away to the blank stare that had been there before. Jerkily, he turned and raised his wand again, aiming it at the nearest Auror. "Ava..." he trembled, and she focused more on her control of him.  
  
"Kill them now."  
  
"Avada... Ke...davra." Despite his fumbled words, a familiar green bolt of energy flew from his wand tip and struck down the witch. A moment later, he repeated the curse, killing another of his fellow Aurors.  
  
Pleased with her work and knowing it unnecessary to watch more, she turned away and shot a blast of red light at the nearest figure, causing them to scream and fall where they stood, writhing in pain. Behind her, another scream let her know that the Aurors had killed the young boy she had Imperio'd. Ah well. There were always more.  
  
A cloaked figure appeared at her side, giving her ribs a brief tickle. She jumped, whirling to face him before breathing a sigh of relief. She could not make out the face, of course, but knew the form to be that of Tomas Derian, her... paramour, of sorts. She smiled to herself. "Having fun?" he asked teasingly.  
  
"But of course. And you?"  
  
"Never better." He lifted his mask briefly and kissed the top of her head. "Almost ready to head home, love?"  
  
"Enough death and destruction for one day?"  
  
"I'd suppose..."  
  
"EXPELLIARMUS!" The spell caught her by surprise, sending her flying back into a tree trunk and ripping the wand from her hand. She slumped to the ground, dazed from the impact. Her vision blurred even as she fought to see even five feet in front of her. An Auror was standing above her, a white-knuckled hand gripping her wand. She glared down at the Death Eater, hatred burning in her blue eyes. "You killed him," she whispered hoarsely. "You killed him, you fucking bastard."  
  
A heavy fist collided with the Auror's jaw as Tomas lashed out at her. "That would be fucking bitch, you stupid cow..." he growled low, then pointed his wand at the fallen Auror. "Avada Kedavra."   
  
He knelt over her. "Ciera?"  
  
"Ow."  
  
"Hurt much, love?"  
  
"Just a... ow... bit." She struggled to sit up, but he pushed her back suddenly and whirled just in time to block her from the green light speeding towards her. It struck him instead and he stumbled, falling back against her, his head landing lifelessly against her chest.  
  
There was no time to scream or react. His heavy form pressed into her, but she didn't move, couldn't move. Her eyes fastened, horrified, on his still corpse. It had happened too fast... it wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't supposed to die.  
  
She allowed her hand to come up to tangle in his dark hair where it was revealed as his hood fell back. Then she took his wand from his fingers and pointed it at herself. "Dormio," she whispered. The effects would be almost immediate, she knew. Her heart and breathing rate would drastically slow until hardly noticeable, and she would appear as dead to the world for around ten hours, which would give her time to pass herself off as dead to the Aurors, and to the rest of the Death Eaters.  
  
Her hand fell lifelessly to the ground moments later, Tomas' wand rolling out of her fingers, a dull and useless thing.  
  
***  
  
A tall, thin, and handsome figure paced in front of the fireplace. "And how many dead?"  
  
"Ten, my Lord."  
  
"And what of the others?"  
  
"I counted twenty-three of theirs fallen."  
  
"Good, good... then it is true that the Ministry is still shy of using the Killing Curse against us. Fools." He glanced up. "Who was lost?"  
  
"Peleus, Estrelle, Morius... Icar, Orian, Rete, Shanaman..." he paused briefly. "Oh, and Derian and Lanen."  
  
Riddle turned. "Lanen? Ciera Lanen?"  
  
The Death Eater nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I saw both of them... they died together, it seems."  
  
The Dark Lord snorted through his nose. "Touching, don't you think? To die in each other's arms... isn't that what Muggles call romantic? I suppose some of the softer wizards would consider it so as well... but not I. Love is for fools." His sharp green eyes perused the man before him. "Are you in love, Rogers?"  
  
He shook his head quickly. "N-no, my Lord."  
  
"Good. Keep it that way, shall you?" He turned back to the fire. "Now go, and tell the others to return home until I wish to make the next move."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." After bowing low, the Death Eater turned and hurried from the room, the door closing heavily behind him.  
  
***  
  
The Ministry wizards worked quickly at their tasteless duty of separating the fallen Aurors from the Death Eaters. One group would receive an honorable burial, while the other would be sent to respective families, if they had any, or buried en masse if they didn't.  
  
Crysies Trelain bent to pick up a fallen wand that lay scarcely a foot from a pair of corpses. She glanced over at her friend as she straightened. "Looks like they won this one, doesn't it Lace?"  
  
Lacey Portra pointed her wand at another corpse, sending it towards the growing number piled on a cart at the edge of the clearing. "Perhaps. But we'll get them in the end, you know."  
  
The first snapped the wand she held in two and stuck the pieces in a bag at her feet before bending again to search the two bodies. "How do you know?"  
  
She shrugged. "I just do. Don't ask questions, just work. I want to get this over with."  
  
"Me too..." Her voice trailed off as her fingers brushed over the skin of one of the bodies after moving aside the one on top. It was still warm. Surely, it wasn't... Hesitatingly, she lifted the mask from the face and held her hand over the slightly parted mouth. It was faint, but she could feel warm breath wash over her fingers. She stepped back, her eyes widening. "Lacey... this one's... alive..."  
  
The other girl whirled towards her. "What?! Are you sure?"  
  
They both stared as the raven-haired woman stirred, letting out a low groan. "Uh... I'm pretty damn sure."  
  
Lacey drew her wand and pointed it at the awakening Death Eater. "You are under arrest by order of the Ministry of Magic."  
  
The woman stared up at them, unblinking, a lost, defiant sort of look in her brown eyes. Then the gaze slid down over the still form of the body lying beside her. She shook her head slowly. "It doesn't matter."  
  
She didn't even struggle against the ropes that shot from the Ministry witch's wand, looping around her body and binding her tightly.  
  
***  
  
Severus Snape ran a nervous hand through his shoulder-length black hair as he stood with Albus Dumbledore outside the office of the Administrator of Azkaban. "Are you positive about this, Albus?"  
  
"Of course, Severus. When am I not?"  
  
"It just sounds... bad."  
  
The Headmaster smiled beneath his beard. "Your outstanding way with words never ceases to amaze me, and constantly reminds me why you are our Potions instructor, NOT our Language professor."  
  
Snape considered it beneath him to bother responding to the remark, and instead stared stonily at the door. This was a bad idea... a very, very bad idea. It would never work, not in a thousand years. Not in a hundred thousand years. It was bad enough to land him in Azkaban for the second time, and to gain Dumbledore a very dishonorable dismissal from Hogwarts. Perhaps they could share a cell. Wouldn't that be pleasant?  
  
Why did the man never cease to embark on his damn fool crusades? And why did he never cease to drag him along on them?  
  
"But this girl, Albus... I know nothing of her..."  
  
"Pretend, then." Snape stared at him. "Oh, come now. Surely you were a child once. In fact, I know you were. And a very moody one at that."  
  
"Could we not bring up the past, please?"  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "Very well. But you brought it up."  
  
"I did-"  
  
His exclamation was cut off as the door opened to reveal Jasper Bane, the Administrator to the horror known as Azkaban. He stared at them from sunken, lifeless eyes. "Yeah?" he asked gravelly, though cracked lips that looked as if they hadn't smiled in a century.  
  
Despite his dismal appearance, Albus stuck out his hand and smiled jovially. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We've spoken through fire, if you recall."  
  
The man stared sullenly at the proffered hand, then turned and disappeared into his office. As if nothing had happened, Dumbledore followed him, and, with a sigh, Snape did the same.  
  
The office inside was just as dismal as the man who occupied the quarters. He sat behind a ramshackle old desk and glanced at a molding file. "Ya wanted to see a pris'ner?"  
  
"That's correct. Her name is Ciera Sinistra."  
  
"Well... s'good someone knows her name. Haven't been able to get a word outta 'er. We call 'er the tenth Death Eater, cause she was the only one outta ten that they found alive. An' she was only just." He looked up gloomily, as if saddened by the news that she had survived. "Whadda ya want with 'er?"  
  
"We want to explain a bit of a... misunderstanding that seems to have occurred."  
  
"Misunderstanding, eh? How so?"  
  
"Well, you see... Ciera Sinistra is no more a Death Eater than I am. She was, shall we say, framed."  
  
Behind him, Snape cringed at the words. Albus Dumbledore- upright Headmaster, role model to thousands... expert liar.  
  
Jasper Bane stared at Dumbledore for a few moments, then abruptly burst into laughter, the action contorting his already-hideous face horribly. The expression made Snape cringe again. "Framed, eh? That's a story if I ever 'eard one."  
  
Dumbledore was unfazed. "I assure you it is no story, as you say. Now, if you would give me leave to explain."  
  
Bane leaned back in his seat and waved his hand. "Go ahead. I could use a good laugh."  
  
"Thank you. First, allow me to introduce Severus Snape, Potions Professor at Hogwarts."  
  
At this, the Administrator leaned forward. "Snape, did you say?" His eyes narrowed at Severus. "You're one of the ones that escaped, aren't ya? You should be rotting in here, you."  
  
Severus bristled, though the words hit their mark, and stepped forward. Albus held up a hand to stop him. "He was once convicted of being a Death Eater, it is true. But the claims are no longer valid, and I would thank you to respect that." Bane leaned back again, still glaring coldly at Snape. "But it is on that point that I would like to base my argument. It was once well known that Severus was considered one of Voldemort's (Bane flinched at the name) followers. And as you know, many still bear very hard feelings towards anything related with Him. Many of these people are in positions of power..."  
  
"What're ya sayin'? Out with it now."  
  
"What I'm saying is that one such person had Ciera Sinistra kidnapped, overpowered, and placed at the scene of the fight."  
  
Jasper slammed his fist down on the desk. "Ridiculous!"  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Absolutely! First off, why?"  
  
"To involve Severus, of course."  
  
He paused, thinking about what was just said, as if allowing his slow-witted brain time to process the information, before responding. "Explain."  
  
"Gladly. You see, Ciera Sinistra is Severus'," at this, Snape fought the urge to cringe at the words he knew were coming, "fiancee." Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded once as Bane's eyes moved slowly to him, trying desperately to keep the vein in his temple from twitching.  
  
"Really now?" He didn't sound convinced. Surprising.  
  
"Yes. And of course, you see, by involving his fiancee with the Death Eaters would involve him, landing him once again in Azkaban where they want him."  
  
Snape watched the man carefully. If he actually believed the lie that Dumbledore was feeding him... then he had been in the confines of Azkaban for far longer than he should have been.  
  
Slowly, he rose, reaching for the keys at his waist. "Let's just see how your story holds up, alright? We'll go and see your tenth Death Eater."  
  
***  
  
Several minutes later, Severus found himself looking through a one-way glass window at a black-haired woman. She was lying on her side on the hard floor, halfway curled into a ball, her right hand drawing patterns on the dusty floor. Every so often, she would sneeze, stare blankly at the spot on the floor, then resume her drawing. Her matted curls fell over her face, partially obscuring her features, but even still, Severus could tell that she had, at one time, been beautiful.  
  
"Well?" growled Bane, tapping his foot impatiently. "Her trial's tomorra, if ya got somethin' to say."  
  
Dumbledore looked to Snape, who was still staring at the girl. He didn't want to do this. Finally, he nodded. "It's her."  
  
"You'll wanna talk, I suppose."  
  
This time, Albus answered. "Yes, if you don't mind."  
  
The Administrator shrugged and gave an unintelligible grumble, inserting a key into the lock in the door and turning in with a loud clang. He allowed them in and gave them a cold glare. "I'll be back in ten minutes, got it?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded cordially. "Thank you."  
  
The door closed behind them, leaving them alone with the tenth Death Eater, who had not yet shown any sign of acknowledging their presence.  
  
"Now what, Albus? The girl is most likely half-mad, and we're supposed to get her to follow along with this ridiculous story you've brewed?"  
  
A feminine voice answered him. "I'm not mad." Snape whirled to find her staring up at him with hollowed eyes, eyes reminiscent of Sirius Black, and of his own. She blinked, her hand straying to a tendril of hair that hung down the middle of her face, bringing it to her mouth to absently chew on. "Who are you?"  
  
Severus didn't know what to say, and turned, helplessly, to Albus. The old Headmaster knelt in front of the woman. "That, my dear, is a very, very long story."  
  
END CHAPTER ONE  
  
Notes Part Dos: I wasn't expecting it to be this long, or this confusing. But never fear, all shall be explained next chapter. Just let's hope that next chapter isn't this long, shall we?  
  
I reeeeeeeeeally like this idea, and hope you all do as well.  
  
Dedicated to Milla, Captain of the Good Ship Snape/Sinistra! 


	2. The Tenth Death Eater

Chapter Two: The Tenth Death Eater  
  
Author's Note: I forgot to mention that this part (including the first chapter) is taking place before Voldemort's Fall. The GoF-setting will come in shortly. Just thought I'd clarify.  
  
Also thought I'd mention that I feel myself becoming quite the rabid Snape/Sinistra fanatic.  
  
Oh, and Enfleurage, kudos for noticing the change of last names. Pay attention, and all shall be explained. And yes, dear old Dumbledore is quite the conniver.  
  
***  
  
Ciera looked up at the old man kneeling by her from where she had propped herself up on one elbow. It was a long story to explain who he was? How strange. She didn't need a story to tell who she was. She knew. But she hadn't told anyone. They all thought she was dead, didn't they?  
  
Severus watched her closely. It was quite apparent that she was already losing her mind, though she had only been imprisoned for a little over two weeks. She had that vacant, empty stare in her eyes, a gaze brought on by Dementors. Her black robes, the same ones she had worn the night of the battle, were torn and dusty, hanging limply from her deteriorating form. Her face was bone-thin, her cheeks hollowing and her eyes rimmed with black circles.  
  
She got to her feet, her bare soles arching against the cold ground as she paced the small cell. After a moment, she glanced at Dumbledore with a scowl. "What do you want with me? No one knows I'm here. I'm dead to them... dead like him. No visitors... nothing." She threw a cursory glare at the two men. "You know. How? What do you want? No one cares what I want, of course. No one bothers to ask."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was soft, reassuring. "And what do you want?"  
  
"To be left alone," came the curt answer, followed quickly by the pacing. She reminded Severus of a captive animal... one like he had seen once at the Muggle zoos as a child. She had been used to freedom... the confines of the cell were driving her as mad as the Dementors were.  
  
He wondered how the headmaster had known that she was here. But his connections were vast and sordid... information was constantly coming to him. Doubtless, another connection had come through about the girl.  
  
He briefly went over what he knew of her. Her name was Ciera Ophelia Lanen and she had, apparently, attended Hogwarts a few brief years before he himself had entered. She had been in Ravenclaw, strangely enough. Few Ravenclaws found themselves prey to Voldemort's promises.  
  
Shortly after her seventh year, she had joined the ranks of Death Eaters, apparently encouraged chiefly by a certain Slytherin love interest of hers, and had remained loyal until her recent capture. With her trial tomorrow, she was certainly doomed to a life and death within Azkaban.  
  
Enter Dumbledore. With reasons yet unknown, he had dragged Severus here with a dreadfully dismal plan of rescuing the Death Eater. Dumbledore had contrived a new identity for her, one clear of all Death Eater affiliation, under the name of Ciera Sinistra. Severus was to pose as her fiancee and attest for her 'innocence' so that they could bring her back to Hogwarts, a repeat of Severus' own first days out of Azkaban.  
  
He sighed. It would never work. Never. He watched as her restless pacing finally ceased and she settled wearily onto her cot, scratching absently at her left arm.  
  
Her left arm...  
  
He stepped forward and laid his hand on Dumbledore's shoulder, bending to whisper in his ear. The old wizard nodded. "Of course, of course..." He moved to sit beside her and took her hand in his, slowly rolling up her tattered sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.   
  
Her dark eyes stared at it for a few moments, then glanced up at him. "You don't know what I've done," she whispered with the haunted voice of one who has been forced to relive her mistakes over and over for the past two weeks. Her voice had lost its rough edge and was now strained. It was a tone painfully familiar to Snape.  
  
Dumbledore reached out to cup her chin in his hand, but she pulled away, moving as far back from him as she could while he still held her hand. "The past does not matter, my dear. Only the future counts, and what you make of it. Not many people are blessed enough to receive second chances."  
  
She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Why me, then?"  
  
He smiled. "Some things cannot be explained at the present moment. We must wait and find out for ourselves." He stood abruptly. "But if you do not want to leave, I'll understand completely. I've heard Azkaban can be rather nice in the summers..."  
  
She leapt to her feet, wrapping thin hands around his wrist. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "No." Her eyes pleaded with him silently, begging him not to leave her. The old man seemed so familiar... he reminded her of her childhood somehow... of feasts and games and moving staircases and singing suits of armor. It seemed so long ago, like a fairytale. "Whatever you want... I'll do it... please..."  
  
He placed his other hand over hers, warming the frigid skin. "Shh, my dear..." He gently set her back down on the cot. "Now, you must listen carefully to me and do precisely as I tell you. Do you understand?" Silently, she nodded, though she still hadn't relinquished her grasp on his arm. "I'm going to help you. Both of us are." His sparkling blue eyes held hers with his intense gaze. "From now on, you are no longer Ciera Lanen, but are Ciera Sinistra. Furthermore, you are hitherto engaged to be married."  
  
At the last words, she visibly started. "Married?" she whispered, a slight trembling in her voice. Her already-pale face drained of any remaining color and the hollow look in her eyes became more pronounced.  
  
"Yes. To Severus."  
  
She frowned. "To... Sev-who?"  
  
He gestured behind him to the sallow, black-robed man who had accompanied him into the cell. He was the one, she noted, who had called her mad. "To Severus Snape."  
  
The frown became more pronounced as she studied him further. "I don't want to marry that."  
  
Snape's own customary scowl multiplied tenfold at the comment. Of course he knew he was no great prize of a husband, no one needed to tell him *that*... but it was hardly basis for such a crude comment, even from an Azkaban inmate.  
  
"It's only pretend, my dear. A game."  
  
Her frown remained, but she slowly nodded, turning her hollow stare to Severus. "Well?"  
  
He returned the stare, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yes?"  
  
"I don't have a ring."  
  
"A... ring?" He blinked.  
  
She held up her left hand and wriggled her ring finger. "A ring."  
  
He rolled his eyes skyward. Good Merlin... "I don't..." He was cut off abruptly as Dumbledore rose from the cot and produced from the depths of his elegant robes a gold ring. Reluctantly, Snape took it, examining it briefly. It was simple, thankfully, set with a single diamond. He supposed that it would be the sort of ring he would have chosen himself... not that he would ever consider marriage of the real kind.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he held the ring out to Ciera. She shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest. "That's not the way you do it, you know."  
  
He opened his mouth, then abruptly shut it, glancing sharply at Dumbledore. The headmaster gave the distinct impression that he was enjoying this a bit too much. He waved his hand at Snape, who was standing stiffly in place. "If you will, Severus... lowering oneself to one's knee seems to be the common way to do this sort of thing."  
  
"Thank you, Albus," he growled. Oh, if looks could kill. Jerkily, he knelt on the floor in front of Ciera, feeling embarrassment rush to his pale cheeks. She stared expectantly at him. He gripped the ring in his right hand, only slightly concerned with the potential of shattering it.  
  
He forced his clenched teeth apart. "Will you?" he snarled, staring fixedly at the ground.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Romantic, isn't he?"  
  
He heard Albus laugh. "Yes, Severus can be dreadfully sentimental. It's rather a problem." He smiled broadly. "Come now, you can do better than that."  
  
"I think, Headmaster," he began carefully, "that our time would be better spent instructing her as to your plans for tomorrow."  
  
"Nonsense. I'll handle the entire thing. All either of you need do is testify that you are indeed engaged. However, to do that, you must finish your task."  
  
"Albus, please," he hissed, both his hands now clenched into fists. But if he were looking for support, Albus Dumbledore offered none. So he turned back to Ciera, who was still looking expectantly at him. "Fine, dammit... will you..." he paused, the unfamiliar words seeming to get stuck on his unusually dry tongue. "Will you..." He whet his lips and cleared his throat. Why was this so bloody difficult? Albus was right. It was just a game. He'd lied to Voldemort, why couldn't he ask a girl to pretend to be his wife? Fine then. He'd do it. "Will you... marry me?"  
  
A smile broke across her face, seeming out of place in the hollows of her features. "How could I refuse that?" she said, extending her hand. He took her hand and unceremoniously slid the ring over her finger. As if her touch burned him, he just as quickly dropped her hand.  
  
He got to his feet, clasping his hands behind him and scowling darkly. "I suppose you're happy," he growled at Albus.  
  
The headmaster also stood, applauding lightly. "Wonderful, Severus. A truly moving performance."  
  
Snape only snarled from deep in his throat and whirled away, storming out of the cell. Ciera glanced after him as his angry footsteps echoed off the walls. "Is he always so charming?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, my dear... I'm afraid so." He bent to kiss her forehead. "We'll see you tomorrow at the trial, then?"  
  
The smile left her face immediately. "They won't let me go." She broke away from his touch, shuddering as a crazed yell pierced the silence. "They'll find out..." her voice became hoarse. "They'll know."  
  
"Of course they won't. How would they? No one knows except for us and your future husband."  
  
She attempted another smile, but failed miserably. "I don't want to stay... my good thoughts are gone." Looking at him, she tried to remember the fairytale... the ghosts and an enchanted ceiling... but as soon as her mind latched on to the memory, it became as fleeting a breath of air.  
  
He tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. "We'll get you some new good thoughts, then."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise." Again, he kissed her forehead. "Tomorrow, then?"  
  
She nodded, sinking back onto the cot as she watched him leave. The door locked itself behind him, leaving her alone. She shuddered, curling up tightly. She fingered the ring on her hand, clinging to it in the darkness. She didn't care who she had to marry... she was going to get out.  
  
Another scream shattered her thoughts, coming from a few cells over. Perhaps she would go crazy before tomorrow. Tomorrow seemed like a very long time... time ceased to pass inside her cell. Days stretched on like months at a time.  
  
Tomorrow could be an eternity.  
  
And surely, she would not last that long.  
  
Her fingers found the ring again, and as she closed her eyes, she allowed herself to dream that she was not marrying that great, greasy bat. Instead, Tomas was with her. He had slid the ring onto her hand, had kissed her and begged her to marry him.   
  
A smile, slightly crazed, flickered over her face. She could almost feel him, feel his warmth next to her. But even as she did, the heat began to freeze, to turn deathly cold, until she could once again feel his dead weight pressing her into the lumpy mattress.  
  
She screamed, her eyes flying open, and she scrambled from the cot, crawling across the floor on her hands and knees to huddle in the corner. She shook violently, clutching her emancipated arms around her knees in an effort to control her shudders. But they only increased as, in the darkness, her mad eyes stared at the mattress, seeing not an empty cot, but the corpse of Tomas, haunting her worse than any Dementor. But he couldn't be there. She was alone. Alone.   
  
"The girl is most likely half mad," came Severus' voice, drifting to her from the darkness.  
  
"I'm not," she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the cot. "I'm not mad."  
  
"Hurt much, love?" Now it was Tomas, his voice eerily detached, swirling around her and echoing his last words over and over inside her head.   
  
"Go away," she whispered, her voice desperate as she pressed her palms against her ears. "Please go away..." But her pleas did nothing, leaving her with naught to do but scream like the others.  
  
END CHAPTER TWO 


	3. The Days of Salem

Chapter Three: The Days of Salem  
  
The origin of witch trials was presumed to have begun in the old days, back in Salem, where foolish Muggles tried to kill presumed witches by burning them. But truthfully, witches and wizards had been on trial long before that, in courts far more fair than the Muggle ones.  
  
Severus glanced around the courtroom, at those gathered. Some were eagerly awaiting the start of the trial, to send another accused Death Eater to Azkaban for life. The jury looked bored and uncaring, hardly aware that the fates and sanities of many unfortunate wizards lay in their twiddling fingers.  
  
Then again, perhaps these courts were just as unjust as those of past days.  
  
At least, they had been when he had been on the receiving end of judgment.  
  
He folded his arms across his chest, glaring darkly at the chair that sat in the front of the room. He wished that the damned trial would just get started. His black eyes darted to the other occupants, suddenly very sure that they were all looking at him, thinking that he should be the one being dragged out by Dementors and questioned by the formidable Mr. Crouch.  
  
Dumbledore, who sat beside him, leaned over. "Relax, Severus. Everything will go according to plan."  
  
"I don't like being here," he responded edgily.  
  
"It will be over soon enough."  
  
He responded with an unintelligible growl and returned his glare to the front of the room. Waiting through two trials was certainly not soon enough.  
  
But wait and watch he did, as the jury quickly deemed two gaunt, unshaven wizards guilty as being Death Eaters. Then Bartemius Crouch nodded towards the door. It opened and an equally gaunt young woman, flanked by two Death Eaters, entered. She hardly seemed the same person that they had spoken with the night before, and he had to lean forward and blink to be sure it was Ciera.  
  
A buzz of chatter swept over the room. This was the one that they had heard about... the Tenth Death Eater... the unknown woman found at the scene of the fight.  
  
She let herself fall onto the chair and closed her eyes wearily as the chains came up to wrap securely around her. Crouch looked down at her. "You have been found in the company of active Death Eaters, clad in the robes and mask they wear. But before you can be tried according to these accusations, we must determine your identity, yet unknown. You have refused, up till now, to disclose your name. I ask you to identify yourself, or the court will be forced to return you to your quarters in Azkaban until you are ready to do so." Snape sneered at Crouch's back. Yes, intimidation... always a helpful and just tool. "We ask you again, what is your name?"  
  
She opened her eyes and looked for a long time across the gathered crowd, searching the faces, until her eyes found Dumbledore and Snape. Albus nodded, almost imperceptibly. She turned her gaze to Crouch. "Ciera Sinistra," she breathed in a soft voice.  
  
"Louder, please, so that the entire court can hear you."  
  
She cleared her throat and spoke again, more confidently. "I am Ciera Sinistra."  
  
"Very well." Crouch glanced at a young witch who was hurriedly keeping account of the trial, and she nodded up at him to show that she had gotten the name. "And how, Ciera Sinistra, do you plead to the charges brought against you, the charges of associating with and being one of the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."  
  
She swallowed, closing her eyes again. "Not guilty."  
  
A loud murmur swept over the crowd once again, growing louder and louder, until Crouch had to bang on the table for silence. But they didn't stop talking until Dumbledore stood up and said in a loud voice, "I can vouch for her innocence."  
  
All eyes turned toward him, and Barty Crouch frowned. "Ah, Headmaster. Surely saving one Death Eater from Azkaban is enough?"  
  
Dumbledore arched a white eyebrow. "One would think so, I suppose. However, I must intervene in this case. The young woman you now have in custody is no Death Eater. She merely chose, shall we say, the wrong man to become engaged to." Severus fought back a sneer.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Ciera Sinistra is engaged to Severus Snape."  
  
More gasps and whispered comments swirled around the room. Crouch gave a crooked smile to Dumbledore. "Birds of a feather flock together, don't they Albus?" He stepped down onto the floor and approached Ciera. "If it is as you say, then I wouldn't suppose that the young bride-to-be would be sporting the Mark, would she?"  
  
"Why don't you see for yourself?"  
  
"I intend to." He grasped Ciera's left wrist and tapped a spot on the chair. The chains binding her left arm loosened and recoiled away from her. Then he twisted her arm so that her palm faced upwards and pulled up her sleeve, a triumphant look on his face. The look promptly faded, however, into disbelief when he found no trace of the Dark Mark on her arm. He dropped her wrist, and the chains promptly rewound themselves around her. She smirked up at him in a way that he did not like at all. Whirling towards Dumbledore, he demanded, "Explain yourself!"  
  
"Gladly. You see, Ciera and Severus chose to keep their involvement fairly... secretive, for obvious reasons. As you well know, many among us are not altogether pleased with the accused Death Eaters that 'escaped,' such as Severus. However, someone with a vendetta against Severus found out, and a few weeks ago, on the night before she was discovered at the scene of the fight, Ciera disappeared."  
  
"Are you saying," he began, looking extremely skeptical, "that she was purposely kidnapped and placed at the scene, conveniently dressed in Death Eater garb?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"And... why? To steal away an... accused Death Eater's fiancee? Seems a bit extreme to me."  
  
"Not only that. But to involve Ciera with the Death Eaters would also be to involve Severus once again, once the link was discovered. And, with such formidable evidence against him, he would end up in Azkaban once again. Unfortunately, whomever it was did not plan on major pieces of evidence, such as her lack of a Dark Mark."  
  
Crouch's frown had increased with each word Dumbledore spoke. He was about to lose another one, he knew it. And he hated it. He turned to Snape. "Severus Snape, is this woman your fiancee?"  
  
Fighting a grimace of disgust, he nodded. "She is."  
  
"And do you staunchly reaffirm both of your uninvolvement with the Death Eaters?"  
  
"I do."  
  
He gritted his teeth. "Do you also confirm this, Ciera Sinistra?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you, Albus Dumbledore?" He was almost growling the questions now, infuriated at failing to jail yet another Death Eater.  
  
"I most certainly do."  
  
Snape chanced a quick glance at Dumbledore. Sometimes he swore the man could lie better than he himself did. And he wasn't quite sure whether or not that was a good thing.  
  
Crouch had turned back to face the jury, his face calm save for a vein that was throbbing angrily near his temple. "You have heard the testimony of these three here and I ask you to consider and weigh the information revealed at this hearing to the best of your judgment." His beady eyes scanned the rows of judges as they scribbled their vote onto rolls of parchment before handing them to the head juror. "Have all ballots been turned in?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Then... please present them to the court." It was barely noticeable, but Snape's sharp eyes saw that Crouch was gripping the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The fact caused him to smile sardonically. Good to know that the all-powerful Mr. Bartemius Crouch could still be shaken, despite all his bravado.  
  
The head juror stood and began to unroll the scrolls, one after the other. "Not guilty," he pronounced, much to Crouch's chagrin, then unrolled the next one. "Not guilty... not guilty... not guilty..." It continued on likewise, and as he finally gave the final verdict of "Not guilty," Ciera sagged backwards in the chair as the chains dropped from her body. Snape blinked, still not certain that he had heard correctly. But he managed to smile unfavorably at Crouch as the other man fixed a glare on him.  
  
Ciera, released from her bonds, strode down the middle aisle, her eyes staring straight ahead as she walked. Dumbledore and Snape followed after her, guiding her outside the courtroom. Once outside, her step faltered slightly, and Severus took her by the arm to support her, but she pulled away from him. "Don't touch me," she hissed dangerously. "Just because we're pretending to be in love does not make me any more apt to let you near me."  
  
Snape's cold eyes bore into hers. "I'm glad we have reached that understanding, Sinistra. Unless you were mistaken, I was not that willing to submit to this in the first place. My feelings have not changed, despite our little show. I will be all too glad to never set eyes on you once we reach Hogwarts."  
  
She was about to spit back a reply when Dumbledore intervened. "Forgive my intrusion into such a delightful domestic quarrel, but I feel it necessary to inform you that you will be seeing quite a bit of each other... till death do you part, I might add."  
  
Both whirled towards him and exclaimed, simultaneously, "WHAT?!"  
  
Dumbledore nodded, grinning broadly. "Oh yes. Did you think you could simply call of the engagement after she was released? Oh no, no... you must be married immediately!"  
  
Severus stepped forward. "I certainly did not agree to this, Albus... never once did you mention..." his lips curved up in a disdainful sneer, "Marriage."  
  
"Oh come now, old boy, marriage isn't all that bad."  
  
Ciera snorted contemptuously. "I think I'd rather go back to Azkaban."  
  
Dumbledore now turned quite serious. The sparkle left his eyes and his smile faded. "The door is that way, my dear." She paled at his words and slowly shook her head. He turned to Snape with a frown. "Severus?"  
  
Snape ground his teeth together, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms. "When is the big day?"  
  
Immediately, the smile returned. "So glad you asked, Severus! Come along, I'll explain everything on the way."  
  
With identical glares at each other, Severus and Ciera followed the bustling Headmaster, their arms folded tightly across their chests, and neither looked at the other. Picture-perfect love?  
  
Well... not quite.  
  
END CHAPTER THREE 


	4. A Change of Pace

Chapter Four: A Change of Pace  
  
Author's Note: Since I cannot do italics on this silly piece of crap called a computer, //'s indicate a flashback. Now continue with your regularly scheduled fic.  
  
***  
  
Ciera Sinistra sat quietly beside Severus as the Great Hall filled with students, just like it did each year. Right now, the first years- probably soaked to the bone due to the stormy weather- were waiting for McGonagall to lead them in for the Sorting Ceremony. Every year was horribly predictable. She could have told the students which house they would be in, without the help of the silly, bedraggled hat.  
  
Perhaps she should amend that statement. Every year was horribly predictable... except for this one. The Triwizard Tournament would be taking place this year, according to Dumbledore's announcement earlier in the summer. He was to tell the students today, after the Sorting, presumably.  
  
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" Ciera pursed her lips as the furious voice drifted in from outside. And he would tell them once Peeves stopped attempting to drown the already-soaked students.  
  
Her dark eyes flashed over the room, noticing Harry Potter and his entourage entering the room. Her stomach twisted slightly at the sight of him, the way it always did. The guilt had gotten better over the years... the first year she had taught him, she could barely look at his face without cringing. But her body still betrayed her.  
  
"Ciera, dear?"  
  
The witch glanced over to see that Eolande Sprout, the frumpy Herbology professor, was trying to get her attention. She gave a mental sigh at the intrusion into her thoughts and forced a smile. "Yes?"  
  
"Have you seen hide or hair of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, dear?"  
  
She shook her head. They had been on quite the bad streak of DADA professors, it seemed. Four years ago had been the Quirrell disaster, then that joke of a man Lockhart, then the werewolf... Merlin knew what they'd end up with this year. "Not yet. Not that I know what I'm looking for."  
  
"Yes, old Albus has kept it quite a secret, hasn't he?" The short, plump woman smiled up at her cheerily.  
  
"Quite," she responded tersely, turning away to lay her hand on Severus' arm. "Snape."  
  
He frowned at her. "Did I not make it clear enough fifteen years ago that you were to call me Severus?"  
  
"It appears you didn't... nor all the times you have told me since. Honestly, Snape, I'm not some animal you can condition a response from."  
  
"Sadly not. And do not call me Snape."  
  
"Sorry, Snape."  
  
He growled low in his throat. "Did you want anything, besides yet another opportunity to grate my nerves?"  
  
"Yes. I wanted to ask you about the new Dark Arts professor."  
  
"Go on and ask, though I doubt I know any more than you do."  
  
She frowned, her expression matching his. "Why hasn't he told anyone?"  
  
He gave a careless shrug. "I am certain that he has his reasons, as per usual." He shook off her touch and shifted away from her, leering out towards the Gryffindor table. Snape had never quite recovered from the missed opportunity of seeing Sirius Black lose his soul to a Dementor, and his hatred of Harry had multiplied more than she would have dreamed possible.  
  
With Kevin Witby being sorted into Hufflepuff, Dumbledore stood and gave his usual good-natured smile to those gathered. "I have only two words to say to you," he announced. "Tuck in." And with a cheer, the students did just that.   
  
Rolling her eyes, Sinistra reached for a plate of rolls. It was the same every year. The students dived into the food as if they hadn't just stuffed themselves full of sweets on the trainride over. She carefully selected a roll and slowly buttered it, making sure to completely cover the top with butter. There was only one reason she did this. It annoyed the hell out of Snape.  
  
As if on cue, he leaned over and sneered in her ear, "*Must* you take all night to devour a single roll?"  
  
She took a small bite and chewed thoroughly before responding. "Mind your own bloody business, Snape." Amazing. She could *hear* his teeth grinding together in frustration. After taking a full three minutes to eat her roll, she cut a small sausage into ten equal pieces, then glanced at Snape and cut each of those in half. The muscles in his jaw clenched, and he savagely speared a cut of steak with his knife.  
  
She smiled softly. After fifteen years, you would have thought she'd gotten tired of irritating Snape. But she had only perfected her methods. Anything to keep him away from her. Physically, they might sit next to each other at meals and share the same set of rooms, but emotionally they were continents apart. And that was precisely the way she wanted to keep it.  
  
She couldn't stand the arrogant bastard, to put it quite simply. Ever since his first condescending words to her in Azkaban, she had hated him. She hated his greasy hair, his horridly large hooked nose, his sneering lips, his sallow skin, his starved gauntness, his affinity for the color black, his way of swooping around like some silent bat... everything. She loathed to look at him anymore because it tempted her toward inclinations of murder.  
  
And to think that she was bound to him for all eternity... what a dismal prospect. Perhaps Azkaban had held more promise than a frigid marriage to a heartless son-of-a-bitch. But of course, she would never find out, though she often compared the personalities of the Dementors to that of Snape's. It was a very close call.  
  
Shaking her head as Sprout offered her a bowl of pudding, she turned her attention to Dumbledore, who had stood. Instantly, the leftover food faded away, leaving the plates as clean as they had been before. Ah yes, time for the yearly speech.  
  
"So!" he said cheerily, "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for you attention, while I give out a few notices." Promptly, Ciera tuned him out, focusing once more on the ring that clung to her finger like a lifering. She hated thinking of it as such, but that was precisely what it was.   
  
She had not taken it off since the day Snape had presented it to her in Azkaban, and with good reason. That ring, simple as it was, held unvalid and forged proof of her innocence. Though she hadn't realized it until that day in court, the ring was bewitched with a powerful magic... laced with a spell that could only have been performed by a great wizard. She had always suspected Dumbledore, though he had never admitted to the fact, not even when he had first explained the incredible properties of the ring fifteen years previously.  
  
// "Headmaster..."  
  
He held up a hand to stop her. "Albus, dear, please."  
  
"Albus..." she corrected, rather uncomfortably. "I need to ask..."  
  
"Why he couldn't see your Mark?"  
  
Was she that transparent? She had hoped to have more mystery to her after all her years as a Death Eater. But perhaps Azkaban had stripped away her layers, leaving her at her barest. Or maybe Dumbledore knew more than he let on. Either way, he was correct. "Yes... but..." she rolled up her sleeve again, as she had been doing for the past ten minutes, just to be certain, and showed her unblemished arm to him. "... it's not there. He couldn't just not see it... it's... gone." She kept running her hand over the place where the brand should be, expecting it to suddenly appear again, for the black skull to mocking laugh at her for her foolishness, to burn with all of Voldemort's anger.  
  
But it didn't, a feat that continued to amaze her.  
  
He continued his brisk pace, and she had to hurry to keep up with him, as her own legs were shorter than those of the two men. "That is where you are wrong. It isn't gone at all."  
  
"Then...?"  
  
"It is hidden." He smiled at her and held out a bag. "Licorice twist?" She shook her head and he shrugged, biting off the end of one and chewing thoughtfully. "You see, my dear... the ring you now wear is no ordinary ring. So long as you keep it securely on your finger- which I highly suggest that you do- your Mark will be invisible to all around you, and no magic, Dark or otherwise, will force it to reveal itself. It is, in essence, the alibi you didn't have."  
  
"The alibi that none of us have," growled Snape viciously, but neither took notice of him. //   
  
It was true. From the moment she had put on the ring, her Dark Mark had vanished... or at least been concealed. It was the reason Crouch had not seen Voldemort's mark on her arm in the courtroom. That evidence alone had sealed her release. No Mark, no Death Eater, right?  
  
She smiled behind her goblet of spiced cider. They had no idea how wrong they were. Few teachers were any the wiser as well. In fact, no one besides Albus and Snape knew about her past, though some had indeed speculated as to her shady history. She didn't mind the vague guesses as to her past- they were child's play to her. What she did mind was that they had the knowledge that she was married to the smarmy git known as Severus Snape.  
  
Dumbledore had insisted that the information was necessary for their ploy to be entirely successful. It had been amusing for the first few weeks after her installment at Hogwarts... several of the teachers had given her pitying looks, ones that she had been forced not to return with self-pity of her own.  
  
Thankfully, their lack of romantic contact was overlooked and attributed to Severus' usual coldness. The haughty exterior she herself gave off helped along the idea that theirs was a marriage of convenience, not passion. Though... it was more fact than idea to tell the truth.  
  
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Amidst the exclamations and protests of the students, he went on. "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"   
  
His speech was cut off abruptly as the door of the Great Hall flew open with a resounding bang that caused the entire room to turn in the direction of the sound. A hunched figure stood outlined in the door, cloaked and leaning on a gnarled staff. As they watched in silence, the stranger lowered his hood, revealing a mass of tangled gray hair.  
  
A sudden flash of lightening lit up the room, highlighting the man's features... or lack thereof. The face was scarred and battered, barely recognizable as human. A large portion of the nose was missing, and what must have once resembled a mouth was now a mere slit for an opening, grotesque and lipless. And the eyes...   
  
One was normal and seemed rather out of place on the horrid visage. But the other was large and bright blue. It was restless, roving about seemingly of its own free will in the socket. It turned around completely to look at the back of the room, then scanned over the rows of students and finally the teachers, all as he made his slow, limping pace to the front of the room, a dull 'clunk' resounding with every other step. Sinistra shuddered as it paused on her and her stomach twisted violently. Her face, however, remained neutral as she stared back at him, back at that horrible, all-seeing eye. She knew that face... or what it had been before the attack.  
  
Alastor Moody... more commonly known now as Mad-Eye Moody... for rather obvious reasons. She knew more of his reputation than of the man himself. He obsessively hunted Death Eaters, out of revenge for the horror done to his physiology. Without thinking about it, she reached for her left arm, touching the spot where the Mark lurked, unseen.  
  
She wondered... could his eye see past spells? Oh Merlin, please no...  
  
She chanced a glance at Severus as she felt the eye move on. His expression was unreadable, unperturbed, as usual. But she noticed- how could she not, after fifteen years of 'marriage'- the tightening of his jaw that betrayed him to her scrutiny. He was nervous as well. He did not look at her.  
  
Her mind raced through countless reasons why the ex-Auror was here, some plausible, some bizarre, but she settled quickly on the worst-case scenario. He knew. Her nails dug into her sleeve. He knew about her... about the lie... had come to drag her by her hair back to Azkaban. It was over.  
  
Her mouth went dry, and she could see as clearly as day how the way in which she would spend the remainder of her days... locked in a cell, haunted by memories and long-dead phantoms, never to see day again. She looked up and cursed the weather. The bewitched ceiling still reflected the misery going on outside. Why couldn't she at least have had the pleasure of seeing the sun once again?  
  
It took her several panicked moments to realize that Moody had not stopped in front of her place, had not trained his wand on her and revealed her identity to all those gathered. Instead, he had seated himself beside Dumbledore and was eating sausage.  
  
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" exclaimed Dumbledore. His tone was sickeningly bright. Did he not realize the hazards of bringing a renowned Auror to teach at Hogwarts, at a school inhabited by two ex-Death Eaters? Especially considering that one of those two was using Hogwarts as a sanctuary.  
  
Sinistra pointedly refused to applaud Dumbledore's statement. In fact, the great oaf Hagrid was the only one to join in the applause. McGonagall looked skeptical and pinched... but that could just be her customary appearance, Snape continued to stare steadily in front of him, and the rest of the teachers seemed to suddenly find great interest in the design in the wood grain of the table.  
  
She finally forced herself to release her left arm and instead her right hand clenched her upper thigh, for lack of else to do. She hardly heard as Dumbledore announced the Triwizard Tournament, nor did she notice the uproar the event caused. She was lost to the world in a whirl of thoughts, and as soon as a proper amount of time had passed, she dismissed herself from the table, claiming she had to work on the next day's Astrology class outline.  
  
Snape had also left abruptly a minute earlier, but he was nowhere in sight as she exited the Great Hall. However, the 'clunk' that echoed through the hall a few moments later was unmistakable. She willed herself not to quicken her pace, prayed that he wouldn't speak to her.  
  
"Professor," rasped a gravely voice behind her, and she paused mid-step before reluctantly turning to acknowledge him.  
  
Her dark eyes took him in quickly, each scar, each reminder of old fights and grudges, and she nodded. "Professor."  
  
He smiled, an expression to unseat one's dinner. "Alastor, please. And you are...?"  
  
"Ciera," she offered after a second's hesitation. "Ciera..." here she faltered a split-second, before recovering, "... Sinistra." Why, oh why had she felt the sudden urge to say Lanen? The name hadn't been spoken in years, had never reached her tongue... until now.  
  
A flash of... something... sparked in his normal eye, dark and beady. "Ah yes... I have heard of you. Albus speaks highly of his Astrology professor."  
  
She bowed her head. "Undeserved praise, I am certain."  
  
"No, no," he protested, taking another limping step forward. She willed her own feet to remain rooted to the ground, so that she would not succumb to the urge to back away. Another step gave her a closer-than-she-might-have-liked view of his lipless sneer-smile. "I would myself give highest praise for a woman who has willingly married such a creature as Severus Snape." Was it just her, or had he overly stressed the word 'willingly?' She forced a coy smile onto her pale face and opened her mouth to dismiss herself again. But he beat her to it. "It would be a shame to be forced into anything such as marriage, would it not?"  
  
It was nearly a full minute before she found her voice. "Indeed, it would be."  
  
His magical eye was brought to bear fully on her. "May I ask you a question?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Why have you retained your maiden name?"  
  
Ah. An easy question... one that the pair had already answered upon the announcement of their marriage to the staff. "Severus felt that it would be better that the students be unaware of our union, so as not to taint his formidable reputation as a bastard."  
  
He stared at her for a long time. "I see."  
  
She gave him another smile. "Forgive me, but I must be going."  
  
"Yes... your class preparations."  
  
"Yes."  
  
He gestured down the hall. "I won't keep you... wouldn't want to make you feel trapped, of course." She nodded again and turned away to walk down the hall, struggling all the way to keep her pace even and feeling that blasted magical eye following her every step.  
  
Once she was safely around the corner, she turned not towards the Astrology tower, but towards Dumbledore's office. Her steps varied back and forth between her usual calm glide and a brisker, jerking pace. Finally, she gave in and hurried down the corridors until she reached the stone gargoyle. "Ice Mice," she said, and the statue came to life and leapt away, revealing the staircase that led upwards.  
  
There was something not right about that man, that ex-Auror. With a glance behind her, she hurried up the stairs, hoping that Dumbledore would be able to assuage her fears. But she couldn't shake the feeling of doubt, no matter how she tried. It was as inseparable from her as the Dark Mark that still burned, unseen, on her arm. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind and continued up the stairs.  
  
END CHAPTER FOUR 


	5. Now and Then

Chapter Five: Now and Then

With another password, Ciera gained entry into Dumbledore's office. He wouldn't be back from the Sorting Ceremony feast yet, but she needed... something. She needed to be alone almost as much as she needed to talk to the headmaster. And his office seemed the only place she would be able to find her required peace. Her rooms were out, as Snape would most likely be skulking around them, and everyone knew that she was supposed to be up in the Astrology Tower. Go anywhere else, and she risked running into Moody.

She closed the door behind her and immediately felt the eyes of the painted former professors on her. She almost felt the urge to apologize for disturbing them.

A soft croon welcomed her and she glanced up to see the red Phoenix staring at her from his perch across the room. "Hello, Fawkes," she said softly, crossing to stand by him. She ran her hand over his feathered head. Strange. It seemed like mere days ago that she had entered Dumbledore's office for the first time. She and Snape had just been married that morning, and Albus had whisked them off to Hogwarts immediately afterwards.

What a honeymoon.

__

"Have a seat, Ciera, make yourself at home. Sugar Quill?"

She shook her head, her hands folded stiffly on her lap. "No."

He raised a bushy eyebrow and bit off the end of the proffered treat. "No need to get snappish, my dear."

"I just married.... **him** for reasons I still fail to understand. That means that I am forced to spend the rest of my life with a miserable bastard I cannot stand."

"I'm sure the feeling is quite mutual," he added cheerily. "Now down to business. There is much we must discuss.

"Such as why the hell I'm here?"

He chewed thoughtfully on the Sugar Quill before responded. "Yes, that would be one of my main points. I'm going to explain everything. As you now know, Severus has been spying for us for several years, with my promise that he would be kept from Azkaban."

"So what? You want me to spy? Not likely. I ran away from my duty once. If I went back, He'd kill me. Besides, Ciera Lanen is dead to him. I don't exist anymore."

He pointed the end of the sugar snack at her, a delighted expression on his face. "Exactly! Since he believes you dead, you need not fear retribution for your actions."

Now she was suspicious. "What... actions?"

He leaned over the desk, his blue eyes staring into hers. "Severus is indeed a spy. But he is not in Voldemort's Inner Circle." He paused, regarding her quite seriously. "You were."

She stood abruptly, a mixture of anger and fear rising to her eyes. "No. **No**. I am not feeding you information. I'm not that stupid. If He found out... He'd kill me."

Dumbledore's voice was calm. "But you're already dead." She froze, staring back at him, looking very much like the young woman he had seen the first day in her prison cell. Over the past few days, her wildness had been steadily fading. Now it was back. Her eyes were wide and she had paled, blood draining from even her lips. "Ciera, sit." Slowly, she lowered herself once again into the chair, her entire body tensed to retreat again. "Listen to me, Ciera. I would not ask you to do this unless I was entirely certain that you were free from harm."

"Is that what you told Snape? Cause let me tell you what Voldemort would do if He found out that Snape was a spy. It wouldn't be very safe."

A frown creased Dumbledore's face, and he suddenly looked very old. "Severus makes his own choices," he responded softly. "I cannot ask him to do otherwise. But that is not the point. The point is that we need your help, and I believe that you have the means to provide it."

Color returned to her face in a moment. "Is that why you dragged me out of Azkaban? To do your dirty work? To save your arses when your precious Potions Master couldn't?"

"Were you expecting a more noble reason, Ciera Lanen?"

She bowed her head and leaned back in the chair, chastised. He was right, of course. She deserved nothing more than to rot in Azkaban, she supposed. The headmaster didn't have to have stepped in and saved her neck. But he had, no matter what his reasons. She had merely disillusioned herself into thinking that she was somehow worth rescuing.

"Forgive me my selfishness, Ciera, but you are here for a reason... not merely to keep Severus company," he added with a smile. "As I was saying, you were in the Inner Circle, were you not?" She nodded, unable to find her voice. "I'm sure there is much information you could provide us with, but for the time being I must know one thing... what do you know of the Potters?"

She looked up suddenly. "Lily and James?"

"The very same."

"They're the ones... the ones in the Prophecy."

Dumbledore stood up suddenly, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. "What did you say?"

She swallowed. "The Prophecy. Professor Trelawney... apparently it was real. I'm not quite sure what it means, but they know."

He was all but trembling now, his eyes boring into her. "How did it go?"

"Beware, Darkness," she began, staring at her hands in an attempt to remember the words. "The child of... of... of fire and..."

"The child of fire and stag," intoned Dumbledore, "will be enough to fell thee."

Staring up at him, she nodded. "Yes, that's it."

He sunk back down in his chair. "That is what I was afraid of."

"I don't understand.... what does it have to do with the Potters?"

"Fire is for Lily... her hair is quite red, you know, like flames. She was known for it here. And the stag is James. He is... and here I must bind you to secrecy... he is an Animagnus. He can turn into a stag." He shook his head once more. "No one but James and Lily were to know of it. I told them not to even tell their most sacred friends. No one should know."

"Well, someone knows. I don't know who... but someone told Him. He knows and he wants to... kill the child. He is already planning it. I never saw Him so frightened as he is of that babe. Has it been born?"

"Not yet. But soon." He stood again. "I'm sorry, but I must leave you now. I have much to do."

Behind her, the door opened. "Oh! Ciera, I was not expecting you."

She turned with a start. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her over his half-moon glasses. "Something bothering you?"

"Actually, yes. I didn't want to bother you, but... I felt it couldn't wait. I just... I hope you aren't busy."

He only smiled and held out a glass container. "Everlasting Gobstopper?"

With a sigh, she shook her head. Honestly... the man's addiction to candy was very near disturbing. "No, thank you."

He took one for himself and replaced the container in one of the desk drawers. "Do sit." She perched tensely on the edge of the chair in front of his desk. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

She bit her lip in thought. "I know this may sound... odd... but it's Moody."

"Oh, I know having an ex-Auror might be a bit odd for the children, along with the fact that he is sadly missing half of his face. But I'm quite sure they'll adjust. After all, most of them have survived years of Severus' class and remained intact."

"It's not the children. He... spoke with me after dinner. It was strange, but he made it sound like he knew something. It almost seemed like he knew who I really was."

"Impossible. You know that Alastor was not in attendance at your trial. He would know nothing of your case and probably would not even know that you had been accused of a crime in your life."

"Then why would he... Merlin, I don't even know how to describe it. He made me feel... guilty."

"Well, he was an ex-Auror, Ciera. It's only natural that you would feel so around him."

"I suppose..."

"And even if he does bear ill-will towards you, it is only because you are married to Severus. Alastor despises him, thinks that he got off too easily." He stood and came around to lay his hand on her shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Ciera. You shouldn't worry so much."

She sighed. "I suppose I'm just used to it."

He squeezed her shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Go to bed, Ciera. Get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow."

She stood and headed towards the door. "I hope so." She made her way quickly through the halls down to the dungeon, where she shared quarters with Snape. Removing her wand, she began to undo the wards on the door. Once finished, she reached for the handle, only to jump back with a shout of pain when the doorknob bit her. "For _fuck's sake_, Snape!" she screamed, pressing the wound to her mouth as it began to bleed. "Open the damn door!"

A minute later, she heard an incantation from the other side of the door, and it swung open good-naturedly, revealing her husband. "Oh. Didn't I tell you about the new spell? I must have forgotten." He stepped backwards to allow her passage, a deep scowl on his face.

"Bastard," she shot at him, pointing her wand at her hand and muttering a healing spell. When he didn't respond to the insult, she looked up. He did not look happy. Not that he ever did... but he hadn't looked this sour since he had said "I do" at their mockery of a wedding. 

She glared at him. "What, you had a bad day so you decided to retaliate by mauling me with a door?"

He ignored the remark, turning to go into the main room. "We need to talk."

Those were four words that she had never heard come from his mouth before. They usually avoided exchanging words, except those that were derogatory. Now he was actually suggesting that they sit down and have a conversation.

... Something was wrong.

END CHAPTER FIVE


	6. A Couple's Lament

Chapter Six: A Couple's Lament

She stared after him, momentarily at a loss for words. "Then talk, Snape."

He turned to regard her, as one would a child. "In here."

"Why?"

He sighed and pressed a finger to the throbbing vein in his temple. She hated that vein. "Must I have reasons for everything, Ciera?"

"Yes."

The vein throbbed again, more insistently this time. She wondered vaguely if he would ever become so enraged that the thing would simply burst from the pressure. "I have a feeling that this conversation is one that would be more pleasant if we were seated."

Somehow she doubted that any conversation with him could be classified as pleasant, but she followed him into the room nonetheless. He was seated tensely in his customary black chair, his hands folded in his lap. She remained standing, leaning against the wall across from him. "I'm waiting."

He arched an eyebrow at her, then shrugged. "Very well. I wish to discuss the... interesting... addition of Moody to the staff." Interesting. That was his universal word for anything that he disliked. The agreement to share the same set of rooms had been interesting. Her suggestion that she know the passwords to said set of rooms had been interesting. She had even overheard him describe her as, of course, interesting.

"Then discuss it."

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but it requires two people to hold a discussion. And since I am not graced with another's presence at the moment, you are that second person."

She raised her eyebrow in a mirror of him and intoned, "... interesting."

He was not amused, but didn't respond to her sarcasm. "To get to the point and by doing so sooner ending our discussion, I fear that Moody's arrival may have several unpleasant effects, particularly involving us."

She smirked. "Afraid he'll steal me away, are you Snape?"

"No," he snarled, his dark eyes glittering. "Quite the contrary. My fear gravitates around the chance that he could potentially throw light on the lie we have been living for the past fifteen years and therefore ruin us all. He would not hesitate to do so, as he despises all Death Eaters. We both were in league with Voldemort..."

"I know that," she snapped.

"... and that makes us lower than scum in his eyes, no matter what our alliances are now. He wouldn't care, and neither would the families of victims of Death Eaters. Crouch would have our asses, and Dumbledore's as well. And forgive my aversion to misery, but I do not wish to rot in Azkaban."

She was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. After a long pause, she raised her eyes to his. "So you think that he knows as well?"

He straightened. "You suspect him?"

Not that she would admit it, but she was terrified of him. Her, a former Death Eater, terrified of a man. She, who had killed without a thought, who had tortured, maimed, and murdered, who had stared Death in the face without blinking... was terrified. There was no use denying the pounding in her chest when she had recognized him, no use attempting to forget the blind fear that chilled her when his gaze had fallen on her. She could not lie to herself. But she could lie to Severus. "I do. He spoke to me after the banquet."

"And to me, later. I saw him follow you. What did he say?"

"I don't remember precisely. He... pried, it seemed. Asked questions that one just introduced to you would not ask. Of course... he is no ordinary person. People say he is insane."

"Verily so," he answered. "He is."

"Do you suspect him?"

He sighed, running a hand through his lank hair. "I do not know what to think, Ciera, besides that we must keep up our charade, especially now."

Suddenly weary, she sunk down into a chair across from him. "I suppose so."

"I know so. If he suspects anything of you or I, we must quell it now."

"Okay." She paused. "How?"

He was a long while in responding. "We must act as a married couple, I suppose."

Her mouth went dry, she was sure of it. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You act as if you have never had romantic interaction, Ciera."

Of course she had, but she doubted his experiences greatly. She closed her eyes as a wave of memories escaped the hold she had once had on them. Tomas sat across from her instead of Snape, smiling crookedly, self-assured and alluring as usual. She shook her head once and opened her eyes. "I have had my share, Snape," she answered curtly, "and know perfectly well how to conduct myself. But do you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I will manage, thank you."

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. "So... what exactly do you want to do to... persuade him of our authenticity? Snog in the rosebushes like hormonal children?"

"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed, shuddering.

She glared at him. "Excuse me?"

With a pointed stare, he regarded her. "No offense meant, but I have no wish to... snog you... or any other woman."

She tilted her head at him, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You aren't... you know..." She coughed delicately into her hand.

His eyes widened at the question of his sexuality and he sat up in his chair, nearly livid with indignation. "Absolutely not!"

The smile blossomed over her face. "Just asking. Anyway, I am interested in what you have in mind for this plan of yours."

"I do not know exactly... I was hoping that you would have some input."

"Frankly, Snape, I have no wish to have any romantic interaction with you."

"You prefer Azkaban?"

"No."

"Then, as the Muggles say, we must grin and bear it."

She pursed her lips as she contemplated this. "Very well... but must I grin?"

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head in the negative. "No, you may wear your customary haughty look of superiority."

"And you may wear your sneer." His lip curled at the comment. "Yes," she said sweetly, "That's perfect."

A growl issued from his throat. "While we are on the subject, you may as well get used to the idea of addressing me by my first name."

"I have no desire to do so."

"Well, I have no desire to hear you do so. But we must."

"Then you must be more pleasant at mealtimes."

"And you must cease your calculated annoyances."

"And you must not ward the door and conveniently forget to tell me."

"And you must not..."

"And you must bathe more often," she cut in suddenly.

He blinked. "What has that to do with anything?"

"If I must touch you, I would prefer you clean."

He snarled. "I am clean."

"With soap?"

"Of course," he snapped.

She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. "If you say so."

"Would you perhaps care to observe my bathing habits then, Ciera?"

This time she shuddered as she rose from the chair. "I believe that I would rather inform Moody myself that I happen to have a nice little tattoo on my left arm." She glanced down at him. "I am going to bed."

He looked up. "You don't think that we should..."

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to look at him. "What?" she asked cautiously.

"Humor me, please. I cannot myself believe that I am even thinking of this. But it would be less suspicious if we... shared a room."

She bit her lip, almost hard enough to cause it to bleed, and walked to the doorway of her room. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned to him. "You are not setting foot in my room, Snape, or I will be forced to kill you." Then she firmly shut the door, and he could hear the sounds of her setting the various wards on it.

"Well," he muttered, picking up a dog-eared book to read, "I'm glad we cleared that up."

Her voice came through the wood, sounding far-away but no less sarcastic than if she were still standing in the same room. "Nonetheless, Snape, it was an interesting idea. Very... interesting."

END CHAPTER SIX

Author's Note: Ah, another chapter. And whipped out in about one hour too... pretty good.

One must love the Snape/Sinistra bickering.

You just must.


End file.
